Glitter over Camelot
by Grammophone
Summary: Inspired by my bedroom window view this morning. Winter in Camelot!


Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, BBC does

Glitter over Camelot – inspired by the landscape outside my window this morning: so shiny!

Merlin was experiencing his first winter in Camelot. It had been winter every year in Ealdor, snow had fallen, and Midwinter had been celebrated just like everywhere else in Albion-to-be, but winter in Camelot was – pun intended – enchanting. The great castle surrounded by the picturesque village and the lower town lay captured under a thick blanket of downy, glistening snow and the sight of the majestic city with its grand walls and charming towers filled Merlin's heart with pride of belonging there and some warm fuzzy feeling that put a smile on his face.

Arthur did not understand all the fuss around winter. He did enjoy the festive moods it put people in, the decorations put up for Midwinter and the excess of good food in the royal kitchens, but he did not take pleasure in trudging through the deceivably soft snow or falling on his royal bum every couple of steps he took outside. In fact he detested the combination of wet and cold, and the limited hours of daylight kept him from going out. The lack of sunlight and change of scenery had him bored and depressed into numbness.

Merlin, spending the whole day commuting between Arthur's never-ending demands and Gaius' patients – people falling prey to various conditions easily doubled in winter – spent a lot of time running outside, from the town to the castle and back. He was pretty sure his toes were detached from his feet but this thought was in the back of his mind, as he was constantly dazzled by the landscape. Due to the glorious lack of cars, none of the snow had turned to grey slush, and instead the roads were a sparkly white and dangerously slippery. Gliding down one of these, for the tenth time on his way to Arthur – who had complained about the cold and wanted a bath – Merlin decided his whiney master could wait. Snow angels were, of course, priority and Merlin had not had the bloody time to make one yet.

Arthur was wondering what his seemingly incompetent but secretly nifty manservant was doing, barging in at random intervals, only to hastily do what was asked of him and then rush out again. Arthur knew Merlin's inexplicable delight in this sort of weather and also his mischievous yet innocent nature. This, for some part, explained the fresh snow stuck to possibly every surface of his manservant each time he walked into the chambers – Merlin had been voluntarily rolling around in the white muck – and Arthur could not help but roll his eyes when the idiot mopped up his melting trail for the umpteenth time that day. He showed none of the emotion that came with the image in his mind of Merlin making a snow angel: the defiant ears red in the stinging cold, an all-consuming beaming smile playing on his lips, looking up at the sky lying on his back, perfectly content. After sighing and shaking his head to clear his mind, Arthur stood up from his chair and reached for his thick cloak. He was sick and tired of being bored. Merlin would drag him through this hopeless day.

Merlin and Arthur lay panting on the training grounds, temporarily out of use considering the weather. Merlin had convinced Arthur that a bath at the end of the day would be much more effective, even more so after a day of skipping and flailing through the snow. Arthur had not let go of his fear of cold wetness in his neck but had grudgingly admitted that it beat sitting in his chambers all day with no purpose. Now fatigue of countless snow wars – Arthur had refused to make a snowman and thought the snow fights excellent winter training – had taken over and the boys were resting and catching their breaths.

Merlin was determined to show Arthur the beauty of winter. With a subtle flash of gold in his blue eyes he pushed the packed clouds away that hid the bleak sun. Suddenly exposed, the faint sunbeams touched the earth and the white became sparkly, as though someone had sprinkled Camelot with glitter. Merlin let a sigh escape from his lips and turned, curious for the prince's reaction. Arthur lay on his stomach, running his gloved hands through the powered ice in front of him, his eyes focussed on the horizon.

"Beautiful, right?" Merlin said, desperate to get the prince to talk.

"You were right. It's amazing." The prince let his head drop lower than his shoulders and a sad smile was on his lips.

"Come on. We can't freeze to death, and I'm afraid you still owe me a bath."

The two friends helped each other up and returned to the castle, their feet often sliding away underneath them, their hands grasping the other's coat to keep steady but always failing and bringing both down and bursting into – almost – girly giggles.


End file.
